This One…
This one…
So engrossed in identities made of fluff and stories.
This one…
Mistaken, the repetition of emotional loop tapes, playing
out the same pattern – a sad song portrayed as a person.
This one…
Attempting to bear the weight of the world, holding
accountability before an imaginary courtroom.
This one…
Mystery cloaked in mundane concerns, beaten by non-existent
standards and pummeled by inhumane systems.
This one…
Feeling the illusory part, when actually the substantive
whole with no possibility of ever really suffering from separation.
This one…
The benevolent sun warming this face the kind smile of this
one in self-reflection.
This one…
Ancient and young, the never born, never dying is not
threatened by concepts of beginning and end, hot or cold, life or death.
This one…
The limitless pulsing of benevolent life force, the root
pattern of all experience.
This one…
Perceived best in liminal spaces, between inhale and exhale,
the moments of birth and death.
This one…
Never seen, ever been, whole pristine, in between,
unexplained, uncontained, never bound by dualities chain.
This one and only, absolute.
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